


Convalescent

by venhediss



Category: Pyre (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Healing (emotional and physical), Hurt/Comfort, implied background volfralech
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-12-27 13:37:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12082137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/venhediss/pseuds/venhediss
Summary: A physical change as drastic as demonification does not simply recede quietly and smoothly. It tears and twists like a living thing, leaving signs of its presence as it is dragged, struggling, back to the place from whence it came.





	Convalescent

It was the 13th of Ninthmoon, the air was brisk, and Jodariel had a medical appointment in the early afternoon. She woke early and dressed, eyes skimming over the pale remains of dark markings on her arms. She stared at her reflection in a small mirror of hammered silver, running a comb through her hair, feeling it skid over sensitive swells of scar tissue where her horns had finally peeled away. The deep, bruised shadows had faded from the hollows of her eyes, and her complexion now had a glow far too healthy for someone of her age; this combined with her impressive physique would lead most to guess she was at least 10 years younger than she was, if not more.

For the first few months after her return, she had ached bone-deep as her horns turned chalky and brittle, flaking away in pieces big and small. Walking had been difficult on good days, impossible on bad ones. Slowly her joints had eased back into something resembling their original placements, though the new skin on her feet was tender, and walking any real distance without a break still left her in significant pain. Oralech, more intimately knowledgeable about the deep changes wrought by the Downside, suggested that if she forced herself to walk despite the pain, increasing the distance a bit at a time, her body would once again learn how to carry itself. He prescribed nightly herbal soaks - and a cane. He had continued to monitor her progress, making house calls like this one once a week, and, slowly, it had helped. Even 8 months after her return, Jodariel could hardly claim to be back to how she was before her exile, but some of her unnatural hardiness seemed to have remained with her, whether it was wanted or not, and it sped her physical recovery.

The lightness and simplicity of her new clothing left her feeling exposed and on edge. When she wrapped a heavy wool shawl around her shoulders, it was not merely to help fend off the chill.

With one hand on the wall, she made her way to the main room of her home. It was mostly bare; decorations only made it feel emptier, more devoid of life. The only exceptions were a few creature comforts gifted by the former Nightwings: a knit throw rug (patterned like a howler’s hide), a low polished wood table, a large and well-crafted stove… Hedwyn had insisted on this last item. Appropriate that he would give something that provided both food and warmth aplenty. Jodariel knelt before it now, not without a little difficulty, and began stacking kindling within, trying to coax the previous night’s embers back to life.

Before long she had finished a bare-bones breakfast and a kettle of some earthy, herbal tea Volfred had given her some time ago (he never asked aloud about the things that haunted her nights like Highwings cloaked in darkness, but he did what he could). Even now, any meal larger or richer would turn her stomach, especially at this hour.

There was little else Jodariel needed to do, and thinking of what small things there were only made them seem less worth pursuing. Nor was she planning to see anyone else: Mae would not visit this morning, as she had obligations elsewhere. Hedwyn might come by with food, but not until the evening. Rukey and Pamitha had spent the evening there drinking and playing cards not too long ago, and would likely not come again for a couple of weeks, busy as they both were. She could - should - take a walk, but knowing how conspicuous she remained, it hardly seemed worth the effort.

The hours ticked by. Sunlight spilled across the worn wood of the floor, flickering as people and carts passed along the cobbled road outside. She began to count them, then merely to listen to them, guessing at their occupants. At length, one of them stopped. It waited, a minute going by, then two, before it began to roll away. Jodariel had already gotten to her feet by the time a knock sounded from the door. He was earlier than expected, but she had no complaints, the ghost of a smile on her face as she opened the door, leaning a bit on the frame. “Oralech.”

“Jodariel.” He bowed his head slightly. His hair had been cut shorter, allowed to puff out to its fullest volume, but it could not entirely conceal what still remained of his horns. His eyes were a stern, warm brown when he looked back up at her. “It is good to see you up.”

“Likewise.” She fought the urge to glance down. His feet were healed, but he still couldn’t get around without a cane, nor could he walk very far, even with help. Given his history and the length of his exile, it made sense. “Well, come in, then.”

She moved out of the door, letting him make his way to the larger of the two seats in the room while she pulled her own chair up opposite him. After taking a moment to settle in, he began his examination, prodding gently at joints and muscles, asking her to turn this way and that, walk a few steps, tell him when it hurt. The years had not dulled his gift for medicine, and the look he gave her when he was done told her all she needed to know about what he had learned.

“You’ve not been walking every day.”

Jodariel didn’t look away as she returned to her seat. “…No. I haven’t.”

“You are only delaying your own recovery. But,” he cut in, before she could answer. “I’m certain you know that.”

Now she averted her gaze. Of course she knew that. But it was difficult to explain, even to Oralech, who, out of everyone, had the best chance of understanding. Those burdens were not his concern, nor had she decided if she truly wanted to share them.

Calmly, searchingly, Oralech pushed into the silence. “They all stare at you. Is that it?”

“…I would speak no further of this, physician.” She summoned up a bit of her military steel. “I will walk more often from now on.”

“Will you,” he responded, utterly unconvinced.

“I would like to speak no more of this.”

“I understand. Very well.” He closed his eyes briefly, as if making a mental note. Then, pivoting, “You haven’t mentioned your foster children lately. How are they doing?”

The change of topic left Jodariel momentarily confused, but she picked the conversation up quickly enough. “The last I heard, Erimon was to be married at the end of Ninthmoon. Cratia has a child on the way, due in Leventhmoon, I believe. But I haven’t spoken to them, or to any of the others recently.”

“Hm.”

“They are all grown. They have families, and responsibilities. Many work to help support the Union, and they are certainly very busy.”

“And…?”

The hesitation had been minute, but Oralech had picked up on it. Perhaps living with Volfred would do that to a person. Jodariel found herself pressed to respond. “And…there are things I cannot tell them.” That was true enough, and easy enough to admit. “Things they would not understand, nor that they need to hear.”

“About your time in the Downside.”

Something tensed inside her at that, and she felt her eyes flare coldly. “Do not assume my friendship, physician.”

“It is you who assume,” Oralech answered gravely. His scars only served to deepen and harden the small frown on his face. “You assume that I understand naught of what it is to return to this place, as we are.” Silence. He let out a short, heavy sigh. “I do not ask for your friendship, only for your trust. I merely wish to help ease your suffering. You may fight that, if you feel you must. Or you may speak your mind.”

The silence stretched on, but Oralech showed no signs of giving in. He would stay until she either spoke or dismissed him outright, and currently, she could not bring herself to do either. It was warm in the house now, but she pulled her shawl tighter around herself.

Time dragged by.

“It isn’t…” she began hesitantly. “It isn’t that they stare. It’s that I’m a symbol to them. Either for the good of the Union, the bad of the Commonwealth, or for Soliam Murr himself. And even if they don’t…”

He seemed to take her meaning, even as she trailed off. “Even if they do not see you as such, they cannot understand.”

“You saw the Bloodborder, as well. You know what it was like.” The change in topic was abrupt, but Oralech didn’t look confused, so Jodariel continued. “I served there for over a decade, from the time I became eligible until I was exiled. I lived in hard conditions before that as well. I have no family to speak of, outside of my children. Now, all of this…” She waved a hand frustratedly at the walls around her, and beyond, implicating the city, the government, the whole continent. “I don’t know what to do with this.”

“One learns to take comfort in hardship,” Oralech added quietly, eyes closed. “It feels wrong, not to struggle.”

“…Indeed. Some days, I think, maybe it would be better…” She couldn’t finish the thought. As true a chord as it struck within her tired heart, it bordered on blasphemy.

“You think perhaps you never should have left the Downside.” It was Oralech’s turn to be hesitant; his gaze turned askance. “That maybe, after so long…you truly belong there.”

There it was. The words hung in the air for a long moment. Neither of them moved.

Finally, Jodariel spoke again, voice low and tight. “You, at least, still have your skill. Everything  _I_  know, everything that life taught me…it is of no use here, anymore.”

Another weighty pause as Oralech considered his words. “I think that your friends would disagree. Here,” he said with a grunt, standing slowly from his chair. “Let us visit them. Who lives nearest to here?”

“I believe it’s Hedwyn,” Jodariel responded, in a bit of a daze. Her shawl slipped from her shoulders, draping itself over the chair. She didn’t notice.

“Come.” Oralech waved over his shoulder, already walking slowly to the door. “Let us walk.”

Without wasting a moment more, Jodariel headed to the door as well, grabbing her own cane on the way. Together, they stepped out into the bright light of the afternoon.


End file.
